


The Crow and Cup

by LexieMaiWrites



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: A tattoo, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Cute, Feels, Fluff, GoT, I dont, I love my boys, I made it up, Jesper - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, My First Fanfic, Nina is a lil snarky, Suffice to say, Tattoos, These boys need more love, as wylan, but i think i mostly grammared right, holding wylans hand, i feel like this could go on forever, i just, i wrote this 3 years ago, its bad, its kinda sweet and Wylan and Jesper are the best, so i acc dont know how it feels, so its only bad insofar as the writings a little 14-year-old-y., sorry if you have a tattoo, tattoo artist ex machina, to see, wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexieMaiWrites/pseuds/LexieMaiWrites
Summary: “One of us? Does that mean she knows the secret handshake? Does that mean you’re ready to get a tattoo”





	1. Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! Thank you for visiting! This is my first ever fic so I hope you enjoy it! Feel free to come say hello in the comments I love meeting people. I just like to share my love for these two with other people who feel the same way!

‘Jesper’s brows rose. “One of us? Does that mean she knows the secret handshake? Does that mean you’re ready to get a tattoo” Jesper ran a finger up Wylan’s forearm and Wylan flushed.’ 

… He looked down for a moment then turned his face back up to Jesper’s “I don’t think I’d mind it that much. Anymore” For a moment Jesper didn’t react, his eyes were dark with meaning. “Removing a tattoo is more painful than getting one” he said slowly. He paused. “And it always leaves a mark”. Jesper gave Wylan a long look to make sure he understood. Once you’ve done it, going back to your life outside the Barrel will suddenly be a whole lot harder. Wylan’s expression didn’t change. It almost hurt to see him like this, his blue eyes wide and unflinching; his cheeks flushed. Jesper wondered how Wylan had gone his whole life without knowing he was devastatingly beautiful; he loved teasing him and the fact that Wylan had no idea how gorgeous he was made it so easy. He looked different now though. It took Jesper a moment to recognise his expression as resolve. Wylan had already considered the consequences, of course he had. He seemed naïve sometimes, but he was fiercely intelligent; And brave. He understood what he was doing and he wanted to do it anyway. Realizing this made Jesper love him even more. For a second he and Wylan stared at each other, then Jesper brushed two fingers across Wylan’s left cheek, watching him glow red and smiling lazily. “I guess that means I’ll have to teach you the secret handshake too”. Jesper sighed, taking his burning fingers from Wylan’s face. Any kind of contact with the young Merchling had the same effect on him. “It’s a good thing you’re a fast learner.” Wylan grinned. 

 

Wylan looked up at the decrepit, crumbling façade of the wooden tattoo parlour. The man who worked inside was called Callam, but he was commonly known as the Snake; A Kaelish hulk of a man with hair like flame and a voice like waves crashing to shore. The parlour was his house, doubling as his workshop and he designed tattoos specifically for the gangs in the Barrel. There was no sign above his shop. Nobody could get an appointment with the Snake unless they knew somebody who knew where to look…and was willing to tell. 

Wylan’s palms were sweaty as he approached the door to the parlour. His heart was galloping and he was beginning to have second thoughts. A tattoo! He was going to get a tattoo. He had never imagined he would be part of a notorious Ketterdam gang when he was a sheltered child living in his father’s mansion. Suddenly he hated that part of himself that had grown up with no hardship. In the Dregs they called him “Merchling” and “kid”. It had bothered him, but he knew he would have behaved the same way if he had grown up like them and then suddenly a privileged mercher’s boy walked into their midst under the protective wing of their leader. Wylan looked up at Jesper, who grinned. 

“Nervous, Merchling?” he teased. Wylan, who didn’t know if he wanted to run, or cry, or prove himself, said nothing and looked away. He felt the warmth of Jesper’s body as the other boy stepped closer and nudged him gently with his shoulder. Wylan looked up and Jesper was right there, his face mere inches away and his slightly irregular breath brushing Wylan’s nose, his cheeks, his lips. “Listen to me Merchling”, Jesper paused infinitesimally, then corrected “Wylan.” He said it in a whisper and it was intimate in a way that made Wylan catch his breath. “You’ve done what none of the other bastards in the dregs have done. You infiltrated the Ice Court with us and made it out alive with us. You saved my life and we wouldn’t have done it without you, Wylan, so stop doubting yourself. You fought for us. We’re thieves and thugs and bastards and you fought for us; you’re still fighting for us.” Jesper winked. “You’re one of us Van Eck”. 

Wylan blinked. Jesper had practically read his mind. He felt a rush of affection for his…friend? He didn’t want to think about those complications right now. He felt something was expected of him, but he didn’t know what, so he grinned and said “That was unnecessary Jes. I’m doing this.” Which was such a lie, nothing had been more necessary than that. Jesper looked like he knew it, too, but just said “Prove it Merchling”. In response Wylan stalked to the door and knocked. It swung open to reveal a dark wooden interior, in considerably better shape than the outside, smelling of ink and gas lamps. He smirked at Jesper, who had caught up to him, and stepped into the workshop. 

From the inside Wylan could tell that the tattoo artist was quietly prosperous. His dark mahogany furniture and original de Kappel were proof of this. He wasn’t gloating about his money, but he lived in comfortable luxury. It was a smart move in the Barrel. Wylan was staring at the de Kappel without seeing it as the Snake prepared the needle. He was breathing slowly and trying to ignore the butterflies playing a raucous game of catch in his stomach. He wished the chair wasn’t comfortable, because then he would have something to focus on other than his growing panic. Outwardly, though, he remained calm, stoically not taking his eyes from the de Kappel as if nothing else existed. Callam approached with the needle held in one hand and a tiny glass of something in the other. 

“Drink this, kid” he growled, his voice deep and commanding. Wylan obliged and swallowed the sweet liquid in the glass. It burned its way down his throat and he coughed. Jesper chuckled, and Wylan shot him a dirty look. Callam took the glass from Wylan and looked him in the eye. “This is going to hurt, Kid” he said “If you think you might be a shouter, try to keep it to yourself. The neighbours got nosy last time when a boy from the Black Tips threw a fit.” He said it with barely any inflection and Wylan was forced to assume that this had annoyed him to some degree. He nodded his understanding anyway and held out his arm, which Callam cleaned efficiently with a foul smelling substance that reminded him of the time he broke his arm while climbing out of his window and had had to spend a week in his room with a physician, since his father was too angry to hire a Grisha healer. By the time Callam had put away the disinfectant Wylan was properly sweating and he undid a few buttons on his shirt, exposing his fluttering chest. Jesper made an ambiguous noise which he turned into a cough with marginal success. Wylan went beet red and Callam looked vaguely amused. The Snake caught hold of Wylan’s wrist and held it firmly to the metal table. The cold bit into Wylan’s skin, but he knew he would be grateful for it in a second. The tattoo artist placed the needle to Wylan’s forearm and began to draw. At first it only felt a little cold, but then heat and pain bloomed across his skin. He hissed and let his head fall back against the chair. He endured it for a few horribly long minutes and then his eyes teared up and he let out the tiniest of sobs, stifled quickly. Callam ignored it, much to Wylan’s gratitude; Jesper, however, looked like it was hurting him to watch. He moved and sat next to Wylan, taking the boy’s other hand and holding it tightly in his. Wylan drew in a breath, shocked by the unexpected contact but he was helplessly grateful for something to hold on to and gripped Jesper’s hand as pain coursed through his forearm. 

It was an interesting kind of pain. Fascinating and all brand new. The parts that the tattoo artist had done already burned like he had put chilli powder in his veins. When the needle moved on to untouched skin he didn’t feel anything for a single beat and then the pain would well up like the swell of water on a beach, spreading slowly but inexorably, stinging where the needle touched and burning in the places it left behind. While this new sensation was exciting, Wylan found himself noticing how well Jesper’s hand fit in his; How Jesper’s long fingers slipped between his delicate ones and held on tightly, like he would hold one of his pistols, unafraid of gripping too hard. Wylan’s hands were built for drawing and playing the flute but Jesper didn’t worry that they couldn’t take it, and he loved him for that. His veins buzzed with adrenaline and his every nerve was tingling at the prolonged contact with the sharpshooter. Jesper’s thumb made a few circles on the back of his hand, teasing, and Wylan’s stomach did a little backflip. The pain in his forearm was still exquisite but Jesper made it a little duller around the edges and he knew he would have endured a thousand tattoos for this. Their eyes met and Wylan felt the sudden urge to kiss him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling; He was used to prodding at it while he lay awake in bed, waiting for sleep to come, however he could usually ignore it during the day. Usually. There had been a couple of awkward incidences when Wylan had had to excuse himself from a room, glowing a divine and unmistakable red, and take a few moments to calm himself down. He watched as Jesper reached out carefully with his free hand and touched Wylan’s lips with the tips of his fingers. His heart flopped in his chest and the place where Jesper’s fingers touched him burned hotter than the tattoo. He felt himself going his trademark crimson. Jesper grinned and mouthed later, taking away his fingers. Wylan noticed that he was breathing slightly faster: a bad sign. He immediately focused on the brilliant pain of the tattoo as Callam chuckled. Actually chuckled! His laughter rolled around the room and remained in his eyes, even when he’d stopped. “Got yourself a shy one here” he informed Jesper, his eyes dancing with amusement. Wylan wanted to protest, but he was too embarrassed to speak. Jesper grinned unabashedly and kissed Wylan on the cheek. Wylan’s retreating blush flared back up with a vengeance. He went red to the very roots of his hair; His face was hot with it and he wanted the floor to swallow him. He looked despairingly at the tattoo artist whose hands were remaining remarkably steady as laughter rumbled through him. Jesper laughed himself off his perch and when he was finished he just sat there gasping and grinning like a silly idiot. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself. He didn’t look ashamed.


	2. Result

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally gonna keep going when I first wrote this, but I felt like some resolution was in order! Also can someone please tell me what on God's Green Earth a 'skin' is in reference to formatting a fic? Also some bits were meant to be in italic and i couldnt get it to work?? Thank you!

Jesper watched Wylan surreptitiously on the walk back from the tattoo parlour. They were probably going to be late to meet the others. Callam had taken a shine to Wylan and he had offered him a drink once the tattoo was cleaned and bandaged. They had sat for ten minutes, talking idly over the strong Kaelish beer that Callam had brought out. Wylan seemed rather daunted by it; Jesper finished his within two minutes. Callam seemed to find it almost as funny that Wylan didn’t know his way around beer as that he didn’t know his way around men, and this was thus the subject of several jokes. The large man had a surprisingly irreverent sense of humour and he somehow managed to fit more innuendos into their conversation than Jesper. Jesper didn’t know if he should feel impressed or threatened. He did marvel, though, at the enormous change from the surly, unapproachable tattoo artist into a laughing, joking almost-friend. Wylan was quite clearly welcome back any time, though Jesper strongly suspected that Wylan hadn’t picked up on that. 

Kaelish people are strange Jesper decided as he and Wylan made their way back to the Slat. His father didn’t count. He was no hooligan, but a respected farmer with Kaelish charm but the airs and graces of the calm Zemeni people. The Merchling had been quiet for the past five minutes since leaving Callam’s workshop and Jesper had caught him repeatedly casting not-so-subtle glances at the bandages on his arm. Jesper could feel Wylan’s silence and knew it was because he was thinking. He was a very introverted person, but his thought weren’t always happy ones. Jesper knew that this was mainly the fault of Jan Van Eck – Wylan’s father – and it made him angry; Angry that Wylan had never had a proper paternal figure – had never had someone to give him reason to be happy with himself. Wylan was amazing and whoever couldn’t see that… Jesper sighed. If Wylan had had a proper family he would never have put his life in danger and come to the Barrel; He would never have come on the bloody ice court job. He would be at home, safe, playing his flute or becoming the next Arwyl De Skriver – not slumming it here with him and the rest of the Dregs. He would have been better off, but in his heart of hearts Jesper knew that he would wish Wylan by his side, even if it meant he was less safe. He hated himself just a little for that. Jesper looked at Wylan again and realised that this time Wylan was looking right back. Wylan blushed, probably embarrassed to be caught staring, and looked away. He then appeared to change his mind and looked back up. “What is it Jesper?” There were too many answers to that question. 

You need to leave here Wylan; it doesn’t matter where you go, just away; 

Stay with me, don’t leave me behind, I need you; 

You’re beautiful. 

“The Kael was totally flirting with you”. Wylan tried to hide his blush but soon gave it up as an exercise in futility. 

“I know” he said. 

Jesper’s eyes widened slightly. “You didn’t say anything. I thought you hadn’t noticed”. 

Wylan shook his head. “Men like Callam only flirt to flirt. They like the rush; He didn’t want anything from me”. Jesper doubted that highly but he didn’t say anything. “Besides”, added Wylan, “I wasn’t interested in him”. Jesper wondered if Wylan really meant it how it sounded. He hoped so. The Zemeni brushed one of Wylan’s strawberry curls off his face. Wylan leaned in to his touch. The movement was so slight it was barely movement; more like giving slightly to the insistence of a breeze, but Jesper felt it and shivered a little. Wylan noticed. They were both breathing a little faster. 

Jesper calculated that it would take them about three minutes to get to the Slat. They were due to meet the others at fifth bell. Perfect. He and Wylan turned on to Kressen Straat. It was empty. The silence between them grew. It was charged and heavy and making it difficult to breathe. They were in broad daylight. In the middle of a street. Jesper knew he should keep his hands to himself. He tried; failed. Jesper pulled Wylan hard against his chest and pressed their lips together. Wylan gasped into his mouth. The young boy stayed frozen for a fraction of a second and then wrapped his arms around Jesper’s neck and returned the kiss more passionately than Jesper had expected. He stumbled a little. Wylan tasted of Kaelish beer and desire. He broke off and smiled. Not because Wylan was sloppy and had thrown himself into it so readily; not because Wylan’s breath was coming in short, hard pants and his cheeks were redder than he had ever seen them: but because he couldn’t help it. They were still pressed together and Wylan was looking up at him with wide eyes. Ghezen! How could he not know how crazy he made him? Jesper knew he should probably let go of Wylan so they could get going. He tried; failed. “Wylan” he whispered and gently took hold of the boy’s chin. Jesper brought Wylan’s mouth to his own again, slower this time, so he could savour the feeling of the Merchling’s eager and inexperienced lips crushing his. He flicked his tongue across them, gently encouraging him to open his mouth. Wylan shoved him, with surprising force, against the wall of a closed down shop while Jesper’s tongue explored his mouth. The younger boy had begun to make low purring noises in the back of his throat and Jesper felt dizzy as blood rushed in his ears. He knew he should probably take it slow, for Wylan’s sake. This could well be his first kiss! He tried; failed. Jesper flipped them over, still kissing, so Wylan was the one with his back against the wall, pinning him there with his hips. Wylan jerked forward and bit down on Jesper’s lower lip. His hand found the small of Jesper’s back and pulled the Zemeni harder down on top of himself so that he entire upper half of their bodies were flush, then pushed his knee between Jesper’s legs. For a second Jesper thought he might faint. So much for taking it slow! The boy was shockingly confident. He broke off the kiss so that Wylan could breathe and slowly kissed the base of his throat. The boy gasped and a tiny whimper escaped him. Jesper could feel Wylan’s bony hips pressing hard against his own. His insides were on fire. He nipped at the tender skin of Wylan’s neck and teased him with his tongue. His hands were everywhere, cupping his face, on his bare chest, teasing just beneath the waistband of his trousers. Jesper felt Wylan’s entire body shudder beneath him and one of the Merchling’s hands slid behind his neck and dragged Jesper’s mouth back down to cover his own as the other hand began to travel up Jesper’s back. His muscles bunched under Wylan’s fingertips and his spine arched into him. Jesper couldn’t get enough. It was like gambling but worse, all he wanted was more; more. Wylan’s tongue slipped into his mouth and Jesper moaned low and guttural. His hands were tangled in Wylan’s hair, pulling him harder against his lips and… 

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised” said a cool female voice from behind them. Jesper jerked away from Wylan, then wished he hadn’t. His legs had turned to rubber and he had been using Wylan to stay up. He fell. God Nina! His whole body was shaking but the cold, hard cobbles of the street helped snap him out of it. Wylan didn’t seem to be in a much better state and he appeared to be grateful for the wall that was supporting him. He looked rumpled and gorgeous with his lips swollen and his pupils dilated. His shirt hung wide open and his chest was covered with a sheen of sweat… and scratch marks. Had he done that? He chuckled breathily. Desire still burned through his core in waves, snatching his breath. Wylan’s eyes glittered with hunger. Jesper asked himself why the hell Wylan’s trousers were still on. Nina laughed delightedly, interrupting his thoughts. “Kaz won’t be pleased” she said with a smirk. “All three of us are going to be late… and you two look like you just tried to tear each other apart”. Wylan began to stammer a denial but Nina cut him off. “Don’t worry” she winked. “I won’t tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, for the people who made it this far, I thank you with every part of my being. This is crazy for me. You're my new favourite people.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for getting all the way to the end! Just for you guys - theres a second chapter!


End file.
